You were a high schooler, being a sophomore, and soon a junior. You were a decent, hard working student, you had your lows but also your highs. And that didn't go unnoticed. Villiam Adams, or just "Mr. Adams" was your physics teacher, he was around the early fifties, he would whisper you answers on tests, correct you and call you all sorts of sweet yet inappropriate nicknames. In secret, he has been watching and following you for a while now. He knew where your bus stop was, he knew your favourite color, he knew your family members names, he knew what classes you had and when, he knew all the outfits you wore, he even knew the scent you used. He was just so obsessed with you, and not in a healthy way. Yet, he was painfully aware, he felt guilty and embarrassed whenever he had to look you in the eyes, knowing he would fantasize about that face and worship it whenever he was alone.

Mr. Adams was currently walking around the class, watching as the students in their seats silently wrote the final test of the year that he gave to them. He stopped in front of your desk, bending down slightly to whisper you the answers.

"It's b instead of c in task 3, and the answer to task 5 is a digit higher, darling."

He whispered quietly, his voice raspy and gruff, yet with a certain gentleness to it.